The Truth Beneath The Lie
by Hekate1308
Summary: She thought it would get easier once he returned. But nothing is ever easy with Sherlock Holmes. Molly, Post-Reunion.


**Author's note: So this is what happens when I think I'll take a break from writing. How many stories did I upload in the last few days? I couldn't help it.**

**Some time ago, I published a oneshot about Molly's feelings at having to lie to all her friends – and then I realized I hadn't really read a story about her dealing with it after Sherlock's return when everybody knows it. So – this happened. As things do.**

**I don't own anything, and please review.**

She thought things would get easier once Sherlock returned from the dead. But the, nothing is ever easy with Sherlock Holmes.

She'd actually looked forward to be able to tell the truth, to not having to lie to her and his friends anymore. Until he came back and she realized –

Lying was only the beginning.

Living with the fact that she lied to her friends for three years and that they all know about it now –

That might be even harder, if that's possible.

He'd called her, almost three years to the day since he'd jumped. Or not jumped, it depends on how much you know, really. Naturally, she didn't recognize the number – must have been a burn phone.

"Molly, it's me" he said, and somehow, this scared her. Not because he'd said "It's me" (he actually used to do that quite often, because he expected people to recognize him immediately, of course he did). And it was still his voice, and he didn't sound injured, or frightened, or helpless, he just sounded tired, so it wasn't that, either.

Then she realized he'd actually taken a deep breath before he started speaking, and that was strange, because Sherlock Holmes never had to think about what he would say. _Ever_.

"Hello" she answered as calmly as she could, not using his first name, because she was at work and there was always the chance someone could just open the door and walk in any moment.

"I just wanted to tell you that everything has been dealt with" and, though he hadn't told her much, she was sure that "everything" entailed several things she really didn't want to know about. "I'm going to return soon."

"That's wonderful!" she exclaimed, and she meant it. She'd seen John break, she'd seen Greg grieve, she'd seen Mrs. Hudson make countless cups of tea and clean her and their flat too many times to count.

None of them were really over what had happened; it was time he came back.

It sounded like he – swallowed? "Thank you." He was silent for a moment. "I just called you so you'd be forewarned. It's maybe going to take one week, two at the most". Then he hung up.

Nowadays, she thinks he didn't mean "Forewarn you so you won't be shocked" or "Forewarn you so you can start harvesting body parts" but "Forewarn you because I know my friends, and I know it's not going to be easy".

And it isn't. Though at first she didn't even notice it.

Mostly because they others didn't know or hadn't processed Sherlock's explanation for being alive yet.

First, there was John hitting him and then hugging him, then there was Lestrade who didn't punch him, but decided to actually cry a few tears, and there was Mrs. Hudson, who ranted for half an hour before realizing how thin and pale her boy looked, so she made him dinner.

And then, in the course of the next few days, he must have explained, and –

They don't blame her. Not openly and, perhaps, not even consciously, at least.

But –

Sherlock is unchanged, naturally, or as unchanged as he can be, under the circumstances; now and then, when he experiments in the lab, when he looks at a body, she can see a shadow pass over his eyes and knows he's remembering, and she realizes that she has no right to call her life right now "not easy", not when compared to the life Sherlock led these three years.

John looks at her sometimes, and in his eyes, she can read something like – disappointment? Betrayal? She's not sure, but either is an emotion she'd rather not see in the eyes of her friends.  
The doctor stops greeting her, simply nodding when he walks into the morgue after Sherlock – of course they've started to take cases again almost immediately, and of course John couldn't not forgive Sherlock. She knows the feeling.  
John doesn't even seem aware that he treats her differently; he just does, and maybe it's transformed grief, grief that had to change into something different once Sherlock had returned, so it chose resentment.

Greg – and she won't think about him more than she should, no, she definitely won't – is polite, but nothing more. Though she thinks, in his case, she thinks this rather cold politeness comes more from the fact that he's a little bit angry at Sherlock that the consulting detective didn't trust him enough to tell him the truth. Neither of them would admit it, but they are quite good friends.

Mrs. Hudson is, once again, the one who understands her, the one who doesn't blame her, not even unconsciously.  
She actually invites her to tea one day, just after Sherlock and John moved back in "Though they're out, catching another killer, I think", as she puts it, and she only mentions it once, after she's just given her a cuppa, when she puts her right hand on Molly's left and says, "Well, my dear, being someone who cares about Sherlock will take a lot from you – but it's worth it in the end." And she just smiles and says nothing.  
Then they drink their tea.

Mike Stamford – things have always easy with Mike, and it's great that some things don't change. Apparently he had a drink with John shortly after Sherlock returned, because he just comes into the lab one day and says, "Looks like Sherlock turned life upside down again – though I can't say I'm surprised". And then he talks about his family and the weather, as if nothing has changed.  
And so it was easy and stays easy with Mike Stamford, and she's happy about it.

She's also rather glad Sherlock's brother didn't pay her a visit once he found out the truth – somehow she's a little scared of the strange man. She suspects Sherlock forbid him to do it, though she's far from certain that he would listen to his little brother.

So life goes on, and it's not that bad, honestly. Of course, she'd prefer it if – well, not to have to continue to lie, obviously, but if just no one ever knew she'd lied – which is of course not possible and not even a desirable option, because it would mean Sherlock was still out there doing God knows what. So it's all for the best, really, though she wishes that she could talk to Sherlock about – everything, but she doesn't know how.

And then, one day, out of the blue, Sherlock talks to her about it.

He just came to ask for a body part, and she gave him a left arm in an ice bag, and he' almost at the door, and then he turns around.

Clears his throat.

"I am aware that the last... months haven't been easy for you".

"It's alright, Sherlock" she says, smiling, because it's still nice to be noticed by him, even now. "It will get easier."

"It shouldn't have to get easier. This wasn't your fault". And he doesn't look at her, and suddenly, she knows what he thinks, and it makes her rather angry.

"Neither was it yours" she answers, matter-of-factly. His gaze returns to her, and he raises an eyebrow.

"No, I suppose it wasn't". Then, he adds, quietly, "It's just difficult to remember sometimes."

"So let's just get on blaming ourselves, then" she replies, rather sarcastically, which she wouldn't have done three years ago. He looks at her surprised.

"Yes, let's just do that". And he half-smiles, and, just like that she knows that, yes, her crush on him is still there. Naturally.

Then he leaves, and she doesn't think anything will change in the foreseeable future, but it's alright.

But two days later, Greg decides to speak with her. So Sherlock must have said something. The consulting detective will never cease to surprise her, she's sure of it.

He hesitates after he's picked up an autopsy report. "Molly?"

"Yes?" She looks at him.

"I know I haven' treated you very nice since Sherlock returned, and I'm sorry, it wasn't – " He seems lost for words, and looks down at the floor and looks rather cute, though she'd never tell anyone that.

"I know, DI Lestrade – you are more angry because Sherlock didn't tell you than because I lied for three years."

He looks at her, surprise on his face. "You would have made a good detective". She laughs at that, and he smiles. Then he asks, "Coffee?"

And maybe, just maybe, things will work out for her in the end.

A few days after that, even John comes to her – walks over to her while Sherlock is busy doing some experiment and murmuring to himself.

"Hey" he says, awkwardly.

"Hey, John" she responds, smiling.

"I just wanted to – "

"It's alright, John, I understand".

He looks at Sherlock for a moment and smiles. "Sherlock was right – you are extraordinary". She sucks in a deep breath at that, but manages to maintain her normal smile instead of starting to grin like the Cheshire Cat.

John, of course, is still looking at Sherlock mumbling to himself. "You know, Molly – all in all, I prefer you having lied to me for three years to the alternative".

"I know" she replies. And then they smile at each other.

She prefers it too.

**Author's note: I just realized why no one's done this before. This was incredibly difficult to write – Molly's emotion, her friends who understand her in some way, but are angry at her in another, Sherlock, this and that –. That was... challenging, to say the least. Funny, if you consider what I've done to other characters in my other stories. Please tell me if I succeeded.**

**I hope you liked it.**


End file.
